Pound for Pound
by J.Rease
Summary: I stepped off the scale, holding back the tears that threatened to fall down my face. It was never good enough, I was never good enough. As I slipped past the lines of Cheerios, trying not to let them see me crumble, all I could feel was the fingertips still pinching at my sides; the three numbers that were too high ringing in my ears. 147. Like a death sentence. See Warnings


Title: Pound for Pound.

Author: J Rease

Brittana Angst. First Person POV.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I make no monies from the fruition of this idea with use of the characters created and owned by RIB and FOX.

Summary: I stepped off the scale, holding back the tears that threatened to fall down my face. It was never good enough, I was never good enough. As I slipped past the lines of Cheerios, trying not to let them see me crumble, all I could feel was the fingertips still pinching at my sides; the three numbers that were too high ringing in my ears. 147. Like a death sentence.

Prompted by Jenna:

Brittany has an eating disorder and after a particularly rough day (Maybe some comments have been made about her looks) she goes home extremely upset &hating on herself. Santana follows her home with the intention of cheering her up, Santana can either have previous knowledge of Brittany's disorder or not. She gets so upset hearing how little Brittany thinks of herself so she brings Brittany to her bedroom slowly undresses her detailing everything she loves about her. Sweet sex.

Warnings: I tried not to make this too angsty. It has a somewhat happy ending... but I feel like I'll get crap for it.

Author's Note: I worked on this prompt for a while Writing Brittany is a big challenge for me. Writing in first person narrative is just plain not my style. But I decided to take the challenge and this happened. I mean to offend no one or make light of any of the content of this fic. Hopefully I did this prompt justice. My beta started her first week of University recently (YAY LAUREN). Consequently, this little fic here is unbetaed- because I'm lazy and I refuse to replace my beta since she's way awesome and no one can compare.

Please review.

Pound for Pound

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

It's a simple question. The teacher is reading from the textbook that I have covered by the composition book I'm coloring in. It's a question that tunes me into the lecture I deemed unimportant as soon as the bell rang. It wasn't like Mrs. Doppler cared about me as a student, my grades, my progress. She never helped me when I needed it-why should I care about what _she's_ teaching? I shake my head to clear my thoughts and I try tuning her back out, but I'm suddenly too interested to stop listening. What do I see when I look in the mirror? I put the marker I'm coloring with down. I tend to avoid mirrors these days. Mrs. Doppler continues to ramble on in that same dry, boring voice...but suddenly it feels likes she's only speaking to me.

I lean my chin on the palm of my hand and I listen.

"The way you see yourself is just as important as eating healthy or staying in shape. Positive self-esteem and a healthy amount of self-confidence is ideal for growing youth. The foundation you build now will shape your mental health for a lifetime. How many of you-"

The bell rings.

I walk to my locker with my books pressed to my chest. It should be an easy question. _What do I see in the mirror? _It takes a few tries to get my locker open- and the first thing I see is the small mirror hung on my locker door. There used to be a picture covering it. It used to be Santana's picture. But now that she's gone and I'm single...I can't bear to stare at it any longer. But staring at myself is just as hard so I sigh out loud and I toss my books into my locker and slam it shut.

I have another class now...but no one cares if I show up. Teachers want me to play on their terms. They want me to keep quiet and pretend like I'm absorbing what they're teaching. They never want me to participate because they dismiss my answers to their questions as wrong and stupid. I think differently; I see things my way. I know I'm not dumb...but it still hurts to know that everyone else still thinks I am. No one ever takes the time to figure out all I am behind what I choose to show them.

Santana did.

But Santana is at college and she doesn't want me that way and I'm here and I'm lonely. And every time I look into the mirror now...all I see are things I find wrong with myself- all the things that make me constantly not good enough. I sigh out loud again, even though no one is around to hear it and I make my way to the bathroom.

I settle on a toilet lid and I bring my knees up under my chin.

For so long I identified as one half of a package deal. But the moment Santana left I didn't know how to cope. I miss her. I miss her every second of every day. I don't blame her for needing space. This time was supposed to be for me to figure out who I am without her. Santana will always love me; she will always be my best friend. But right now is not the time for us.

I completely understand.

It just sucks now that I don't really want to face who I've become either. Who am I? I'm Brittany. It's the simple answer. Without Santana I am Brittany and that's all I know. Now all I have left to identify myself with is my status. I am Brittany and I am a Cheerio. My teammates look up to me. A lot of them want to dance like me. I'm popular. I'm funny. When I want to- I can be as smart, if not smarter, than anyone else here. And when I look into the mirror- I will be able to face that head on. I will like what I see in that mirror if it's the last thing I do.

000 0000 000

The sound of the scale tipping back to nothing is the heaviest sound I have ever heard. The little "click click clicks" mock me as they tick from that dreadful number back to that blissful nothing at the beginning; that clean slate. I stepped off the scale, holding back the tears that threatened to fall down my face. It was never good enough, I was never good enough. As I slipped past the lines of Cheerios, trying not to let them see me crumble, all I could feel were the fingertips still pinching at my sides; the three numbers that were too high ringing in my ears. One hundred forty-seven. Like a death sentence. If I don't get my weight down, I lose the uniform. If I lose my uniform, well- I don't know who I would be without it.

My arms clutch at each other. I thought I had things under control. Coach Sylvester never had a problem with my weight before...why now? I must look huge. I want to relate the feeling to one of the Coach's famous insults; but nothing comes to mind. I'm doing well in my classes. I'm managing glee and extra curricular activities. I was learning how to deal without Santana and now- now everything is being threatened to be ripped away from me.

I couldn't let that happen.

000 0000 000

I'm running. I can feel sweat dripping down the bridge of my nose as I increase the speed on the treadmill. I'm home, working out in the basement with my laptop blasting music. No one else is home, as usual. That never bothered me before. But now, being home alone felt so... _lonely_. So empty. If I could compare it to anything...I'd compare it to the color blue. Santana used to keep me company on nights like this. She'd make dinner and we would cuddle up on the couch and watch movies until we fell asleep.

I shake her from my thoughts.

I can't dwell on how things used to be anymore. I have to work on me- I have to work on getting better. 147 pounds. My stomach grumbles. It's been a week. Seven whole days on my new diet. Coach Sylvester told me I had to drop at least fifteen pounds. And I would- no matter what. I've been drinking water mostly. Popping tic tacs whenever I get hungry. I'm already down seven pounds. I can do this. I don't need anyone's help.

*Ding*

"Yo Britts!"

My music is interrupted by Santana's video chat screen. I turn off the treadmill and towel off the sweat gathered on my forehead. I hate that my stomach soars at her voice. I guess those things will never stop making me happy. Knowing she makes time to talk to me whenever she can makes me feel worth something. I sit down on the bench press machine and I smile into the camera.

"Hey, San. What's up?"

She knows I miss her. I try not to sound too eager. I try not to make her feel guilty for not being with me anymore- for not being my other half. I'm on my own now and I have to stop depending on Santana to make things better.

"Are you working out? You never needed to do that before-"

"Sue's been riding me to lose a few pounds-"

Santana looks angry.

"Yea well Sue isn't always the best person to take that kind of advice from. How many pounds?"

"Fifteen. I'm in the middle of my workout San, why'd you call?"

"Fifteen pounds? From where? For what? Britt- one thing I learned since leaving Lima- don't listen to any of that garbage Sue is trying to get you to believe. Okay? Those protein shakes are toxic and you're too tall to weigh less than 130 pounds. She's psycho, and you shouldn't do anything she says."

I feel anger bubble in my belly. Santana doesn't have a right to dictate anything in my life- she left me and now she wants to have a say in what I'm doing.

"I have to get back to working out Santana. Was there anything you wanted to say?"

Santana sighs really big before shaking her head.

"Yea- I'm coming home for a couple days in a few weeks and I wanted to see you. I needed to know when you were free?"

I shrug.

"Just let me know when you get here."

Santana nods.

"Okay... And Britts?"

She's trying to get me to look at her. I hesitate before giving in. And I meet her eyes through the web cam

"I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. And I don't want to see you get hurt, okay? I know first hand what Sue's expectations can do to you and I don't want to see you going through the same thing okay?"

I nod, still not listening. She isn't here. She left and she can't have a say in what I do now. When I look into mirrors now all I see is Brittany. Brittany and all the things I will never be good enough for.

"I love you too, Santana- but I'm my own person. And I'm going to do what I need to to stay on top."

I don't give her the chance to reply. I sign out of skype and I head back to the treadmill.

000 0000 000

Thirteen pounds. I'm so close and I'm doing so well. Sure, I'm tired most of the time and I allow myself a cup of yogurt or a bite of bread here and there- but I feel like I look great. My Cheerio uniform has a bit more space in certain places, and even Sue noticed that I've been slimming down. But the other things she's noticed about me aren't all the things I wanted her to.

"Brittany! Earth to Brittany... Want a french fry?"

I shake my head. Dozing off with my eyes open has been happening a lot lately too. I sit up straighter and focus on Sam.

"I seriously don't allow myself to eat more than twelve. Can't keep a body like this by binge eating all the time, ya know? Take some?"

My stomach growls. It's getting harder to ignore my appetite. Before all this weight loss business, my diet mainly consisted of cereal, candy and Diet Dr. Pepper. Given, it wasn't a healthy combination- but it was enough sugar to give me energy to last through my eleven hour days. Sam's french fry looks amazing; it's the thick, crinkly kind. If I lean forward I can just bite it-

I shake my head.

"No thanks, Sam. I haven't been feeling well."

I take a sip of my water. He looks concerned.

"What's wrong? Got a bug? Caught the flu? I totally have some vitamin C in my locker I can run and get you something-"

"I'll be okay. I think the gnomes hiding under my bed have been spiking my dinner with laxatives."

Sam looks like he wants to question me, but he's sweet enough to back off. It's a bit odd, sometimes, that he's such a nice guy.

"Okay, I guess..."

He drops the french fry onto the plate and wipes his hands before standing up. That same french fry falls to the table when Sam turns to leave. I'm stuck in place, my limbs feel heavy and its hard to keep from staring at the rogue potato. The table is probably dirty...but my stomach doesn't care much. It whines as I focus on the french fry. My mouth waters. My palms start to sweat. It's only one french fry.

One itty, bitty, yummy french fry. Sam doesn't even put ketchup on it.

My hand darts out and I plop it in my mouth. My eyes close when it settles on my tongue. It tastes like the best thing I've ever eaten. I swallow it and my eyes flutter open to the lunchroom. Sam is making his way back and my stomach quiets down enough for my brain to kick in.

Something in the back of my head speaks up. It's the same voice I hear in front of my mirror; any mirror really. It's the voice I hear every time I step on the scale. It's the voice I hear every time I realize that I'm not there yet; not good enough. I would call it motivation if it didn't make me feel so...horrible. But I suppose something needs to keep me in line.

_One fry leads to two...and two leads to more. And more leads to weight. We can't take on anymore weight; we already have too much to lose. Don't you ever want to be good enough, Brittany? Pretty enough? Smart enough? Don't you want to be respected? Who would respect a fat, weak, girl with no status?_

The voice that's always right. The voice that makes the guilt outweigh the hunger. The only thing that keeps me going. My mouth has a bitter after taste. If I could pick something to compare it to, I would compare it to failure. I stand as Sam sits back down, a 32 oz bottle of water in his hand. If there was anyone I could talk to about weight loss; it would be Sam. But Sam is all about discipline and hard work. And my goals need to be short term and immediate. He wouldn't understand just like Santana doesn't.

I say goodbye to Sam quickly and I all but run to the girls' bathroom. I lock the door behind me and I run to the biggest stall. I'm on my knees, hoping the fry didn't digest...that I'll have something to throw back up.

I press two fingers to the back of my throat and I lean over the toilet bowl. I remember Santana doing it this way. "Taste the food and then get rid of it. You'll go crazy trying to starve yourself." She used to tell the other Cheerios that. Never me; she used to tell me I was perfect- and that I didn't have to do what they did. But I need results. I need to be better; I need to be thinner and smarter and Santana isn't here to tell me that I'm beautiful. That I'm perfect. All I have left is the voice in my head. The voice in my head that reassures me that this is right.

This will help things along, it won't do any damage. The voice in the back of my head keeps chanting:

_You can do this. This will make you better._

I press a third finger against the place at the back of my tongue that makes me gag. I just want to be good enough. Fifteen pounds isn't a lot; especially when I'm so close.

000 0000 000

Sue didn't even notice. Weigh-ins were regular with the Cheerios. And I was so excited to show her that I had done it. I'd lost the weight. All by myself and on her time line. But she didn't notice. She just hummed when she wrote down my stats and she rushed me off to choreograph the next routine.

I honestly don't know how to take it.

I had expected to be rewarded for my hard work. Praised for the effort. It was always the same._Do better, Brittany- work harder. Try your best, Brittany-it'll pay off._ The only conclusion I could come to was that I didn't do enough. I didn't lose enough. I could turn what little fat I have on my body into muscle. I could work harder; dance harder- be better.

I saved my spot on the squad. It should be enough for me to go back to how I was before. But with Sue- anything could mess up my chances. I need my status. I need my red and white; my armor. It fits nice and I'm used to it; it's one of the few things that have stayed the same since...

_**No**_.

I won't think about her. Every day I try harder not to be sad. Not to be lost and lonely. And every day it gets better. Just like I will get better. I lost fifteen pounds. I set a goal and I followed through. And I did it by myself. And I'll keep doing it until I can look into a mirror and see Brittany.

I need to see Brittany and be happy with who stares back.

000 0000 000

The toilet is a throne and I kiss the feet of a Queen when I give my offering. And she accepts my sacrifice and in return she rewards me. I pay her in pounds for those wishes. I wretch them up and she takes each one; and in return she makes my dreams come true- she makes me good enough. She sits on top of her porcelain throne with all the power in the kingdom. And she is beautiful. Her skin an aqua blue and her crown is crafted out of tissue; delicate webs spin into a crown as beautiful as one made from diamonds. Her face is covered with a sheer curtain. It glints when she looks down at me. But every time I go to lift from my knees in front of her she pulls the sheer curtain aside and she asks me to stare at her face without fear. And to love and accept what I find there.

When I look up to her, I see only see myself- a reflection in the swirling waters of the changing tide of her mood.

Each time I look away and her curtain falls back in place. And she tells me I am not worthy. And maybe if I give her enough pounds I will earn that worthiness. And the Blue Queen knocks her staff against the floor and I flush away from her kingdom. I swirl and drain away...and I wait until I have another offering to give her. Another pound to sacrifice.

And suddenly all I smell is bleach and dirty mop heads. My eyes are closed and my head thumps against my temple. I am mystified with the Blue Queen and her throne-but confused how I wound up somewhere hurt and on the hard floor.

"Brittany, please please wake up. Marley went to get the nurse. Please don't be dead. School is totally gonna suck if you're dead...Gosh, glee would suck too- I know I'm talented but I can't carry the entire team on my back- what would I tell Santana? Gosh she would kill me for letting you die when she's not here-"

"Sugar?...where am I?"

My head throbs. Sugar lifts my head into her lap between broken sentences and bouts of happy crying. I open my eyes at the same time the door bursts open and I flinch at the noise. The bathroom. I'm on the floor of the girls' bathroom. I close my eyes when the nurse bends down and shines a flashlight in my eyes.

"You have a nasty bump Ms. Pierce. Looks like you hit your head on the toilet seat. Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"No- my head just hurts. And I'm tired. Really, really tired."

The nurse mmhmm's at me before feeling for my temperature. She asks me all kinds of questions before she, Sugar and Marley help me up. I'm ushered off to the nurse's office and she calls my parents and forces me to ice my head and not fall asleep. She tells me something about electrolytes and how they're low and that I need to eat before she gives me medicine. She tells me that fainting is serious business and I need to get it checked out. She leaves me on the cot to go help some kid who got punched in the face and Sugar sneaks behind my curtain.

"Um... I went back for your backpack- and I um. You didn't flush the toilet. And I saw. I saw what was in there. It's none of my business but, is everything okay?"

It was right after lunch. I hadn't eaten much but my stomach felt guilty for indulging. The food needed out. But Sugar wouldn't understand that. She would worry and be sad and she would try to convince me to stop doing it. She would try to get me to believe that I didn't need to do this. I move my ice pack to my other hand.

"I didn't feel well. I had the mystery meat for lunch and I guess my stomach was upset at me for trying to feed it fried squirrel and kangaroo meat."

Sugar looks at me like she doesn't believe me.

"You've...things have been weird with you lately, Brittany. We're friends. I know you've been pretty sad since Santana left. I'm here if you want to talk. Just...don't think you have to do this alone, okay? You can talk to me about anything."

It made my heart smile that she cared, it really did. But Sugar wouldn't understand and I couldn't explain it in a way that she would understand either.

"Everything is okay. I'm just really tired. I have all this studying to do; Lord Tubbington started doing meth and I've been pulling him out of meth houses the past few weeks. I have Cheerios practice and glee. Remembering song lyrics- I just don't have that many hours in my day. I wasn't feeling well and I just fainted. No need to worry."

Sugar wants to keep prodding. But she sighs and she half smiles at me. She knows that I'm trying to distract her. But she doesn't force it.

"If you say so. Just; if you're like...pregnant, you don't have to do this alone...okay?"

I nod. The last thought I have before the nurse comes back is I must look huge if she thinks I can pass for pregnant.

I have more weight to lose.

000 0000 000

I overheard that evil Quinn clone, Kitty, tell a few Cheerios to line her teeth with petroleum jelly to keep bile from damaging their teeth. It's what I'm about to do when someone rings my doorbell. It's Saturday, and I don't have homework or practice or anything else-so I'm surprised that anyone is stopping for a visit.

I know it's Santana before I get to the door.

My body goes crazy whenever she's around. Like I have San-DAR and it makes my chest tingle whenever she bleeps into my space. I take a deep breath before I swing open the door and I try to limit my smile to only stretch out halfway across my face. She's wearing the leather jacket that I love to see her in. Her hair is down and she looks me up and down before frowning. She's upset. I step to the side and she walks in; her hands tucked in her pockets, her elbow grazes my abdomen when she walks by me.

I take a quieter deep breath.

"What's wrong?"

I close and lock the door.

"Can we go upstairs? I want to talk to you in private."

Santana never talks about anything. I'm suddenly nervous.

She grabs my hand and I follow her up the stairs without question. She closes and locks my door even though she knows my parents won't be coming to bother us any time soon. I sit down on the bed and cross my legs. She takes her time taking off her jacket, and she sits down on my desk chair with a serious face.

"What's going on with you?"

"I don't know what you're-"

She chuckles in that uniquely Santana way. If I had to describe it, I would place it between an unbelievable snort and a chuckle.

"Bull-Sugar calls me and tells me that you're having fainting spells. People in glee keep emailing me about you falling asleep in class and not taking care of yourself. Trouty mouth is blowing up my phone about you barely eating and disappearing after lunch. You're down twenty pounds since I last saw you. I know what's going on and I need you to snap out of it. Quit lying to everybody, Brittany. Quit lying to me..."

_**No.**_

"You don't get to do this. You don't get to come back here to try to talk sense into me. I didn't like something about myself, San. I changed it. Wasn't that you're philosophy?"

Santana is one of the only people who gets to see this part of me. She gets all of my love and my fears. She gets my insecurity and my indifference. She gets all of my joy and all of my anger. And she takes it all. Santana deflates in her chair.

"I didn't mean it that way, Britt- that was different!"

"It wasn't different when it was you, Santana. When everybody knew that it was you upchucking in the second floor bathroom before a weigh in. You did what you had to do stay on top. What's the difference?"

"You're you!"

Santana flings herself from the chair and I lean back as she walks toward the bed.

"You're Brittany. You're awesome and your beautiful and you believe in yourself and what you stand for. You ignore the all the pettiness and you're perfect. Why can't you see that? The difference between you and me is that you're the strong one! And this shouldn't be happening. You shouldn't have to destroy yourself this way."

Those words sink in deep. My other half. I felt so lost without her close.

"...I felt fat every day. After Coach told me to drop the weight. I felt... inadequate, never good enough. Like everything would come falling down and I'd have nothing and I'd be no one."

Santana sits down beside me.

"...And when I stopped eating it felt like an accomplishment. I had this little bit of control. It was getting me closer to this perfect Brittany. I got tired of looking for myself and only finding things I didn't like. I wanted to look into a mirror and be okay with what I saw. Even after I dropped the weight I just kept going. Because I got attached to that bit of power I had over my body."

A tear fell down Santana's face. She took my hand with her left hand and wiped the tear away as it tumbled down her cheek with her right.

"Brittany you are beautiful. Everything about you. Inside and out. The Brittany I know is strong, and passionate and brave. You have this spark that is so contagious. If I could show you what I see when I look at you...you would never doubt how great you are. You would understand that you don't have to change anything about yourself."

A shudder drains from my chest. Santana fits a finger under my chin and tilts her head toward mine. She's not looking at me. It feels like she's seeing me. I feel worthy in her eyes.

"If I'm so perfect why did you leave? If I'm so beautiful and so great, why aren't we together?"

Santana sighs, but she squeezes my hand tighter.

"I didn't want you to hold back. I wanted you to enjoy your senior year and I needed for things to not be serious right now. I wasn't with anyone else- I didn't want to be. But I didn't want anything to happen with either of us and we wound up hating each other. We have a lifetime to be together...but these years are the ones you never really get to relive-"

I laugh at the fact that I definitely relived a year...I chuckle quietly.

When she leans in to kiss me, my eyes flutter shut. I miss this mouth. This familiar giddiness in my gut and recognizable warmth against my mouth. She kisses me tenderly, softly and without pressure. It's slow and succulent and we savor the moments our mouths press together.

Santana pulls away first, her eyes find mine immediately.

"I don't go a hour without you crossing my mind, Brittany. I memorized your body to keep me company when I felt lonely."

Santana's hand cups my cheek, I lean into her out of instinct.

"I love the freckles on your cheekbones." She kisses both sides; my eyelashes bat closed when her face gets close to mine. My breath hitches when she leans in both times.

"Why?" My voice is weak, I clear my throat.

"Because you're beautiful." Santana unbuttons my shirt. I believe it when she says it. The voice in the back of my head always tells me otherwise. But Santana reassures me without effort.

She kisses my lips. Down my jaw, she lingers at the shell of my ear.

"I love the way you smell. The sound of your voice, the way wisps of your hair always tickle my face."

Her hands push open my shirt and it slides down my arms as I lean back on the palms of my hands.

She kisses down my neck and nips at my collarbone.

"I love the creaminess of your skin. The blue in your eyes." She unclasps my bra and she stands up. She pulls down my jeans until I can feel the material glide over m bar feet. She holds her hand out for me to take. I swallow hard and follow her lead until we are standing in front of my mirror. She tugs my shirt down until it loosens from my wrists and her fingertips brush lightly down my arms as my bra drops to the floor. I am topless and she stands behind me, her lips kiss my shoulder and she looks at me in the mirror. I squeeze my eyes closed. Santana's hand rests on my stomach.

"I love everything about your body. I love the dimples in your back, and the curve of your hips. I love the flesh of your thighs and the grooves of your abs..." Her hands are rubbing blindly over my body. I can feel my skin heating up, I can feel myself reacting to her touch. Her thumb guides my chin back toward the mirror.

"Look in the mirror, Brittany. Why don't you see what I see? Why would you want to change anything about yourself when you are so flawless?'

I open my eyes. My skin is flushed and my chest is heaving and I am standing in front of my mirror in my damp underwear and nothing else.

"Promise me you'll try to stop?"

I nod. I don't know how honest that answer is, but being wrapped up in Santana mutes the negative voices in my head. She walks around me until she blocks my reflection. She pulls her shirt over her head slowly. Her hair falls onto bare shoulders and I inhale the smell of her unique scent. She unclasps her bra without breaking eye contact and she steps back and doubles over in front of me to roll off her jeans and unzip her boots. When she steps back into my personal space she kisses me. She kisses me like she's missed my lips. Like she has to make up for the time we spent away from each other. She backs me up until the backs of my legs hit the bed and she falls with me, on top of me. I smile against her lips when I kiss her, and she moans into my mouth when I bite her bottom lip.

She pulls away and hooks her thumbs under my panties. She pulls them down with a devilish grin on her face and my stomach plummets gleefully when I kick out of them and she tosses them aside. Santana settles between my thighs and she pushes the hair from my face as she looks down on me.

"I love you, Brittany. I love every single perfect little part of you. Don't ever change."

A tear falls down my cheek. She kisses it away. I don't doubt it when she says it because I know she means it. I hook my foot beneath her underwear and I begin to pull them down. My other foot joins it until Santana's underwear dangle at her feet and I can feel her kick them off. She is bare against me and I feel soft, moist parts of her glide against the swollen, wet parts of me. I wrap my legs around her waist and she rolls her hips until she rubs against a spot that forces my breath to intake. Santana kisses me one last time before her lips begin their descent down my body. Full lips kiss every inch of skin purposely, her tongue darts out to lick my shoulders, she kisses under my arms and down my sides before she roams back up to suckle a nipple in her mouth before taking on the other.

Santana's tongue traces the 'V' leading to my sex and I arch from the bed when she presses a barely there kiss to my heat. She pulls back and inhales, it's long and deep. It makes my stomach clench with a different in the most aching way.

"I love how you smell. You make me hungry for you...I love the first taste. I know what to expect but I can't get enough of you, it's dangerous."

I growl and she dives in. She starts with circles. Light, tight circles around my clit. Teasing everywhere but _there_ until I feel like my body is levitating off the bed- until the arch in my back makes a gap large enough for Santana's hand to trace my spine and rest at the bottom of my spine. My hands go to the back of her skull and I press her into me until she gives in and flicks her tongue over the space I need her most. A moan slips out of my mouth before I can catch it, and I hear remainders of her name stuck in my throat as she sets a pace.

Santana knows my body. She kisses and flicks and sucks at all the right times. She brings me close and she snatches it away. She leaves no bit of skin untouched and she makes me want in a way I can't control. Her mouth almost does me in, and she knows I'm close when my legs start to quiver around her ears. When I squeeze and release around her head to stop the thumping from making my body vibrate. She kisses her way back to my lips and she rocks against my slick sex with her own. I feel the velvet parts of her making friction with the thick, sticky parts of me. I feel her breasts touch mines as she moves, and I'm so close when she whispers in my ear.

"I love it when you pull me closer and I don't have anywhere to go; and I feel like I'm falling into you."

She slides against my body and I tilt my hips up as we bump against each other. My bed knocks against the wall as we move, our bodies sweating as Santana begins shuddering against me. Her strokes are broken as she tries to continue through her buildup; I can feel the hum of my building climax when she begins chanting my name. Santana bites my shoulder to keep from screaming out and that does it. My eyes are shut and I see lights on my eyelids as I explode to the sound of Santana coming in my ear.

She stays on top of me for a while, and I let down my legs slowly so she can roll on the side of me. I can hear my blood flooding my ears and my breath is hallow in my chest. I'm sweaty and spent but I don't stop Santana from getting close to rest her head on my chest. It's quiet for a while, and I expect sleep to come soon.

"Brittany?"

"Hmmm?"

"Every pound you lost...I want it back."

"Okay. I think I can do that..."

I didn't want to ask the questions that were gathered in the back of my mind. I didn't need to know what happened next, or what we would become. I knew that would come later; I knew that Santana wouldn't leave me. She would always be my best friend. She would always be there for me no matter what.

"Good."

I had to get used to not depending on Santana's reassurance. I had to accept what I saw in the mirror when I looked. And I had to do it a different way. And I would. I could.

End.


End file.
